


Religion of the Wolf

by waterfront



Series: Compromise in Colors [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Action, F/M, Post Episode 9, Rey Kenobi, Romance, ben solo returns, family love, the whole shebang
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 23:35:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7335550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterfront/pseuds/waterfront
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The War had passed in five years, and, so it goes, time changes all things. Kylo Ren perished in fit of rage and blood. But in his place, a young man came home and now fights for the light. Rey is now a nearly fully-trained Jedi, Poe an Admiral now. Finn has found a home, and the First Order has fallen. And yet, in the dark reaches of the Galaxy, a new threat emerges. As Rey sets out to find her family once and for all, she struggles with her powers, the darkness inside, and exactly how to understand the reformed Ben Organa Solo.<br/>The war has passed but the fight is far from over.<br/>“In the end, it is our defiance that redeems us. If wolves had a religion – if there was a religion of the wolf – that it is what it would tell us.”― Mark Rowlands</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It All Breaks

Lose your mind and come to your senses - Frederick Salomon Peris

*~*~*

**Chapter 1: It All Breaks**

“ENOUGH!”

A barrage of blaster lasers exploded from the open door. Finn, arm held high, a furious grimace on his face, fired rapidly into the chamber. Off-guard, Snoke, weak and sick, swiveled his thin head to the intruder, but a second too late. A well-aimed blast flew across the room and struck Snoke in the chest. He tumbled back over the dusty throne. But Finn continued to fire, a snarl leaving his lips.

The next shot blasted Ren’s saber against the wall, shattering it.

“ _NO!_ ” a wounded Ren shrieked. From the floor, he ungainly stumbled to his feet and as a third shot came barreling towards the leader of the First Order, Kylo Ren lunged in front of it.

               “BEN!” His mother screamed.

Time slowed. Finn lowered his weapon, his mouth opening in horror, as his eyes slid to General Organa. Leia’s hand flew to her mouth, brown eyes growing. And Kylo closed his eyes, his brow un-furrowed, relieved— the blast pierced him—

But only an inch before it halted in midair. Ren grunted in pain.

Across the room, Rey stood on her feet. She breathed heavily but her arm was steady. She held the blast, quivering in the air.

               “Talk to him, General,” Rey said. She looked over at Organa, who in turn made eye contact with her. “Tell him what you told me.”

Leia slowly peeled her gaze away from the young Jedi to her son, on his knees with a blast protruding from his chest. His mouth is a hard, lop-sided line, his face tight as if desperate for silence. Kylo Ren looked away from the General and gave Rey such a look full of such absolute seething hatred, she felt a block form in her stomach.

“Ben,” Leia began. Her voice, often the sound of command, was small and quiet inside the ancient Sith temple. “He doesn’t have to own you anymore. I can protect you.”

Ren tried to sneer, but the pain from the blast grew worse. His skin broke out into cold sweats. “I live to serve him, Organa, he is everything to me—,”

               “He is a liar, and a murderer, and—,”

               “And so am I.” He finally made eye contact with the General, but it was a look of frustration and sorrowful anger. “He trained me in the dark. I am his apprentice and he is my Master.”

               “And you are _my_ son.”

The sentiment echoed in the chamber. There came a distant rumbling, as though such a place of pain and hate could not accept unconditional love. Ren jerked and looked away, his jaw impossibly tight.

Leia took a step forward, as though urged on by his falter. “I know what he made you do. I know what he made you see. He—,”

               “You know nothing,” Ren whispered menacingly, his lip reared. “You know nothing about me, you foolish—,”

“I know he made you kill Han, your father.” Again, echoing silence. “The light is too strong with you. Of course, he doubted you. There’s not enough power in the verse to turn you completely to the Dark.” Leia, her hands clasped, stepped to the dilapidated stairs leading up to the throne. She stared at her son. Rey couldn’t see her face now, but she had a clear view of Ren’s. And he was absolutely petrified.

“Darth was not completely Dark either,” Leia said. “I sometimes forget that. But you are so much stronger than he is. By emulating him, you’re only making yourself weaker.”

At that, Ren scowled, as if someone pressed a hot poker against his face. “Don’t say that. He built the Empire. He led thousands.

               “If he takes my son away from me, then none of that matters to me.”

Ren lifted his head, his eyes unreadable.

               “I would burn galaxies for you, Ben. You just have to come home.”

She repeated Han Solo’s final words to his son and Rey’s arm shuddered. That night— so much death, so much pain, and— the red knife slid in further. Ren grunted, his eyelids fluttering in pain.

              “I have no home. Ben’s home is gone.”

Instead of yelling at Rey, Leia stepped forward. They were in arm’s length of each other.

“I will fight for you every day, Ben. I swear it. I will never let anyone lead you astray. I am sorry for the part I played, when I turned you away— I hate myself for what your father and I did. But Ben, I’m not afraid of you. You have to come home.”

Ren swallowed, shifting the blaster embedded in his side, tearing through his chest, into his upper ribs. He was sweating profusely and tinged green.

               “I am nothing more than a, ah, h-h-hostage negotiation to you,” he panted, through gritted teeth.

Rey sensed a crackle of Leia’s annoyance and hurt through the Force. “You are my son, you goddamn idiot, and I love you!”

Ren again shifted, groaning, his skin white and shiny. He looked up into his mother’s face, huffing shallow breaths, his damp hair clinging to his forehead. He looked above her shoulder, in a gesture that at one point might have appeared haughty and arrogant, but the unforgiving glow of the blaster’s glow robbed him of the opportunity. He was just a boy now. A boy who had given up, because he was simply too tired. The shadows under his eyes and jaw made him look ghastly.

“Just let me die,” he murmured quietly, “please.”

Leia’s power surged, like a giant bird opening her wings in a powerful swoop.

“Ben Walker Solo, you are my son and what you ask is obscene! It’s time you remembered who you are.”

Kylo Ren, leader of the Knights of Ren, recoiled.

It was as though someone had turned on a projector in Rey’s head. Thousands of memories—that were not her own— came across her mind’s eye, caught up in a gust like a smattering of everlillies.

A small boy climbs a tree for an apple. The giant Wookie, Chewbacca, stands below, keeping watch, while Solo is up on the first limb, carving out the core of a fresh red apple, as he encourages his son to climb higher, be better, be faster.

A young Leia comforts a crying three-year-old boy in the middle of a cabinet meeting, while the other senators look on fondly.

Solo laughs as his tiny son, wearing goggles entirely too big for him, dark hair sticking out from underneath the helmet, pretends to fire blasters from the cockpit of the _Millennium Falcon_. When his mother calls, the boy jumps down and runs off. Han gently touches the gears where the tiny hands briefly grasped, and murmurs something that sounds like, “one day.”

Picnics on a sandy beach by a lake. Holidays spent inside. Giant sleds. Goggles that actually fit. Warm bread. Hot soup. A very small leather jacket.

A shadowy figure on the edge of memory, threatening to ruin it all.

As quickly as they had come, Rey was sharply removed from the flickering happy memories. Memories of a family she never had. Memories of happiness she didn’t know could exist. She blinked and felt a painful tug from her arm. The blast was fighting her viciously. Her knees shook.

“Please stop—,” a voice came, cracking her focus.

The voice was clogged with agony.

Kylo Ren was crying. He turned his head, and shuttered, tears suddenly rolling down his pale cheeks. Ren gasped, his dark eyes swimming, “Forgive me— make it stop—,”

A bloody gloved hand reached forward towards Organa and she swooped to him. The General kneeled and touched her son’s face. The heat from the hovering blast was overwhelming, wetting his hair in thick sweat.

“There’s nothing to forgive,” she crooned.

Ren’s face crinkled in shame, tears seeping from the corners of his brown eyes. He almost shook his head.

And then, without warning, the blast shifted an inch forward, and Ren gasped in pain. Rey’s fist is shuddering violently now, sweat pouring down her face. It embedded deeper into his side.

Rey’s pulse pounded in her palm. She knew in that moment with certainty the bolt was going to kill him.

But Organa only squeezed her son’s hand tighter, determined to keep eye contact. He could barely hold her gaze. His skin took to a sickly, ashen pallor.

“But you have to come home. You can’t stay here.”

Ren sighed harshly, grimacing and burrowing his face into his mother’s palm. The tears rushing down his cheeks turn blood-red in the light of the blast.

“I c-c-can’t go.” He wheezed, the blast now puncturing his lung. “I’m sorry— so— sorry, Mother.” He gasped again, a sound that frightened Rey. He was sweating from the pain as much from the heat from the blast. His breathes were irregular and stunted.

His mother sat for a moment, staring at her lost son finally finding the strength to come home. Then she gathered herself on her knees, taking his thin face in both her hands. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his damp forehead.

“I will always save you, Ben.” His breath shook as he let loose another rush of tears.

Over her shoulder, the wounded Knight raised his drenched eyes to Rey, who was beginning to feel faint. Leia Organa turned, and Rey could see she’s been crying too, despite her incredibly comforting and even voice. Organa’s chin went hard. Her hands, now clasped tightly around her son’s, were shaking.

She nodded.

Rey released her hold on the blast. It rocketed forward, an electric dagger, through flesh, and blood, and bone.

The gasp he made was sickening. His eyes fluttered, his body swayed, sweat and tears spill from his face with the force of the impact. The light faded from his once hate-filled eyes, and he crumpled forward into his mother’s waiting arms.

The blast connected with the back wall of the temple and broke loose rock and stone, weakened by thousands of years of abandonment. The wizened body of the once great evil was crushed beneath the crumbling ceiling.

_Ben_

_Ben_

Leia’s cries seemed so distant.  

The break caused a chain reaction. The temple walls began to shudder, heaving dust and debris into the air.

               “Rey, we have to go!” Finn yelled behind her. She had forgotten that he was there. His eyes darted around the room, as if trying to determine where the ceiling would next give way. “This whole place is coming down!”

She looked back to Leia Organa and her fallen son. Rey rushed the stairs, and crouched next to the General.

               “Ma’am, we have to go.” Rey put a hand on the older woman’s back and suddenly released she had been crying too. The dust clung to her wet face like sandpaper, making her eyes burn even more.

               Leia Organa was still holding her son’s hand. “Not without him,” she said quietly.

The building gave another unbalanced sway. “Rey! General! We have to go!” Finn screamed.

Rey, overcome by guilt and sadness, squeezed the small shoulder. “Ma’am—,” her voice broke, “ma’am, he’s dead.”

               “No. Listen, not with your ears. Listen to him.”

Rey stared, stunned, sniffling, and turned her attention to the body of Kylo Ren, still cradled in his mother’s lap. Blood pooled at the corner of his mouth. His long eyelashes touched his skin, still damp from his tears. His chest didn’t move. He looked absolutely—

               “Rey, _listen to him_.”

Rey swallowed, a lance of fear suddenly spiking her heart, and yet, she closed her eyes, managed to steady herself against the swaying of the temple, and reached out into the current that flows through every living creature.

And there in the darkness, in the gray, in the deep recesses of life, something shuddered. It was weak, imperceptible, but it was there.

 

A heartbeat.

 

Rey ripped herself from the meditation, her own heartbeat thumping wildly.

               “FINN,” she screamed over her shoulder, “help me pick him up.”

Finn, still wide-eyed and terrified, rushed over without question. Together, he and Rey managed to get Ren to his feet, but with his incredible size, it was near impossible to walk.

The ceiling behind them gave way, and the four stumbled out of the throne room. Leia led the way, the light in her hand glowing. She was trying to reach someone over the com in her ear, but no one came through.

Rey was crushed under his weight, and she could feel Finn struggling as well. She could feel the wound from the blaster against her side. It was still wet and warm, blood oozing over her tunic. He still had yet to move on his own.

Wiping sweat from her brow, she adjusted him on her shoulder and her hand came away bloody. She was panting and tried focusing on the blue light ahead of her. Finn groaned beside her.

In one of the few quiet times before the final attack on the Sith temple, Rey had found time to read old Jedi tomes. Old methodology, old scriptures. Old tools and talents. One in particular caught her attention and she remembered how she had tried many times to fix her own bruises with the Force, just as the tome had instructed. Not one time had she succeeded then, and his wound was much more severe than a simple bruise. But she had to try.

_Just let him die. He captured you, invaded your mind, threatened to ruin you. He tried to kill you._

Rey’s muscles burned, her head hurt, and her side was tightening painfully.

               “Finn, wait a second—,”

               “Rey, we don’t have a second!”

They stumbled into a wall. Leia, ahead, paused. “What’s wrong?”

Rey tried to clear her mind yet again, tried to access her connection to the Force. “Please, just let me think—,”

A muffled hush descended around her. The swaying slowed and the crumbled rocks knocked like a distant echo. Rey dove down the long dark well in her soul, careful to not nick her elbows and knees on the rocks. She gasped when she hit the blue water and drank the water into her lungs. She felt power again. It moved through her body, until she was as much consumed by it as she controlled it. She willed it upward, through her, around her.

She heard the building crumble, and someone shouted her name, she felt pain directly between her eyes— she tasted wet blood— then she felt the Force. The healing Force.

Her hand moved on its own accord, drawing itself towards the open wound. Her hand was warm and behind her eyelids, she saw green light. She covered Kylo Ren’s fatal injury with her light and willed, with all of her strength, that he be mended. She willed it over and over again.

She was practically propping him up, a heavy rag draped over her. The wall behind them shuddered. His body was still warm.

_C’mon— please— please— work—_

Slowly, then all at once, his bones cracked into place. His muscles repaired their split sinews, and the burn crackled, then faded—

She heard his heart suddenly start pounding so loudly it hurt her ears.

He gasped, his eyes flying open, and Leia let loose a noise that sounded like a cry of relief. Ren shuddered, before passing out again. Finn pulled his dead weight off Rey so she could breathe.

               "You don’t look so good,” Finn muttered. She knew she was going to be sick, but she jerked her head back and forth.

               “I’ll be fine. We-we have to keep moving. C’mon, he can walk now.”

They took a few steps, dragging him again, before his feet fell into a shuffle with them. Leia whipped back around, her eyes shining again, and drove them forward.

They managed to find the entrance to the Sith temple, but a sandstorm had picked up. The wind howled, hurling gusts of sand-crisp blows into the black sky. Purple lightening split the night in half. Rey’s cheeks felt bruised from the sand, another wave of nausea spiking again. Finn and Rey eased a mostly unconscious Ren onto the steps of the temple.

               “Hello, hello,” Leia yelled furiously into her com, her voice lost under the rushing wind and sand. “Is anyone there?”

What seemed to be a crack of lightening in the distance soon revealed itself to be the lights of a black X-wing fighter. Out of the whirling din, the fighter landed and its bottom slowly opened. Poe, with a ripe purple eye and a split lip, came stumbling down onto the sand.

               “We need to get out of here now! The worst of the storm is coming!”

Rey’s stomach churned as she moved to her feet. Her bones felt think like melting ice every time she moved. Poe moved to help Organa onto the ship, but she waved him away and said something to him, but Rey couldn’t hear over the groan of the storm. But he nodded and rushed over to grab Kylo’s shoulder from Rey. But with the grounding weight suddenly gone, Rey felt impossibly light-headed. A dark rim began to cloud around her vision and she tripped, and fell to her knees. She watched her friends carry the dark body on board, the figures slowly turning into murky shapes.

Her heart fluttered painfully— _no, they’re going to forget about me_ — but she couldn’t get up. Her eyelids grew heavy, sand ripping across her open skin, and she toppled forward from exhaustion. Her hand was merely inches from the platform.

_Please, don’t leave me._

*~*~*

Compromise in colors is grey- Edi Rami

 


	2. One Simple and Inarguable Truth

What if we had the chance to do it again and again, until we finally get it right? Wouldn’t that be wonderful? - Kate Atkinson, _Life After Life_

* * *

 

**Chapter 2: One Simple and Inarguable Truth**

               “And this, ladies and gentleman, is not a statement, it is a _promise._ A promise from your new leadership to uphold respectable virtues, to strip corruption from our ranks, and to find a better future. We will not forget those who, in their great sacrifice, have forged a path forward into a new era of the galaxy. We will remember them with every step we take towards the light, towards the hope and prosperity we’ve all been dreaming of. From this day, and forever more, democracy shall reign and _we—shall—be—slaves no longer_! Welcome to the Coalition! Thank you, and goodnight.”

Civilian representatives of every major star system, smattered in their decks in what was the old Senate floor on Christophsis, erupted into explosion of support. General Leia Organa smiled warmly down at the gathered meeting of military giants, former senators, former Rebellion leaders, and old royalty, all offered positions in the new Galactic Coalition. In the former halls of the Imperial senate, before that the New Republic, the scene was familiar. Species from across the galaxy crowded together to celebrate the victory, the hope, the dream that this government would stand the sway of external conflict. In the time before, internal political turmoil and allegiances would eventually divide the crowd— despite their current jubilance— and when pressured, every previous installation of power had turned to a singular individual to lead. Princess, Senator, General Leia Organa had made clear this would not happen. The Galactic government would run similarly to the old Republic: representatives of every system would do their best to reflect the needs and desires of their home planets. Yet there was one small caveat: The House— a small, elite group with individuals of major parties— would serve the deciding vote on major issues.

This time, things were going to be different. This time, in this prominent political arena, the scent of political division was empty from the room and a Galactic government would prove effective once more.

Rey leaned back in her seat, the flashing lights of the media holocam droids blinding her. She scowled and blinked rapidly.

               “You have to smile, Rey,” Poe gently urged beside her. She opened one eye when she felt his hand squeeze hers. The cheering and flashes continued.

Behind them, the House ambassadors stepped forward. They too raised their hands in greeting and welcomed the crowd as all good politicians do. The media went into a frenzy.

               “Riia’s Shorts, this is terrible,” she muttered back to Poe. She glanced down to the green Elmon next to her. Despite its apparent royal robes, Rey caught the undeniable scent of wet garbage.

Though his eyes watered slightly, Poe was smiling brilliantly in his position next to Finn. With his free hand, he waved to the crowd.

“How are you so good at this?” Rey whispered.

               “It’s just another role the General requires of us,” he somehow managed through his perfectly white teeth. The gold pin on his Admirals uniform twinkled brightly under the flashes. “Besides, the Galaxy needs to see us support the Coalition.”

Rey, watching his face and trying to imaging pulling hers into one of perfect, welcoming ease, swallowed. “Well, I guess if it’s for the good of the Galaxy.”

She tried her best Dameron smile with a theatrical wave, and somehow the sea of flashes got even brighter.

               “There you go,” Poe muttered in a sing-song voice. His smile had switched to a cool, curt gaze. “You’re getting it.”

               “I just feel like I’m under a magnifier,” Rey whispered back. The thin Ottegan silk dress felt more like a nightgown than something one would wear in public. She turned her head and the large jewels dangling from her ear gently banged against her jaw. “I’d rather be fighting the Hutts than wearing this dress.”

               “Just be thankful you’re not fighting the Hutts _in_ that dress.”

At that, Rey actually smiled, fighting the urge to snort. She settled for discreetly stepping on his toe.

               “Careful there, kiddo, you might puncture someone if you’re not careful.”

Rey glanced at her white heel, pointed dangerously at the top. “You know, maybe I should fight a Hutt in this.”

               “I and the rest of the House are now taking questions,” Organa said over the raucous applause.

               “General! General!” A small Tynnan was the closest to the official platform in the thick of the media broadcasters, a recording device in one paw. Leia smiled and motioned for him to ask his question. It hovered a bit closer to the amplifier, determined to be heard.

               “Thank you for taking my question!” It squeaked in Basic. “Welcome back to Christophsis, General. The people are grateful to have you!” It swallowed and turned its small furry head to the datapad in his webbed paws. “What, if any, affect will this have on the Champions? What will they do now that the Coalition has been formed?”

Rey’s stomach tightened.

Champions.

It had been eight months since the fall of the Sith temple on Korriban. Eight months had been enough to clarify a Resistance win over the First Order, for good. The remaining outposts were still being run down and the supporters had scattered out into the far-reaches of the Galaxy. But the real roots of the Coalition had begun when Rey had awoken in a plush bed, with a clean, waxed droid taking her vitals, and opened her window to a crowd of hundreds, all waiting to see the scavenger child who had overthrown their Dark rulers. In a matter of days, she had become a message to the people that their starvation was ending, that this new government would take care of everyone, even the poor, because Rey, the beautiful fighter, used to be one of them.

Word had spread that she, pilot Poe Dameron, and former child soldier Finn had been there the night of the fall of the First Order. They personally had seen to the destruction of the Supreme Leader and his followers. Heroes, they were called. Leia Organa was the first to applaud their bravery, and when the news hit the galaxy, everyone knew her name. Overnight, everything had changed.

She was no longer Scavenger Rey. She was Rey, the Champion of the Light, Champion of the People.

Poe squeezed her hand again, either because her smile was faltering or he knew the idea of being someone’s Champion was both horrifying and thrilling. She tried to smile brighter.

General Organa laughed good-naturedly at the floating reporter. “That’s an excellent question. What do the Champions of the Collation wished to do now in their free time?”

               “Probably take a really long nap,” Finn chirped from Poe’s other side. The crowd chuckled. His maroon suit was exquisite in the bright lights. “But I’m looking forward to exploring the galaxy, and helping bringing more troopers like myself into the Coalition. Some were good people, caught at a bad time.”

Finn also had become a center point for the new Coalition. A Stormtrooper, turned Resistance-spy, turned hero. He, like Rey, had recoiled at the thought of playing some contrived role in front of whirring cameras, but as time went on, his opinionated mouth and total disgust with the First Order earned him many supporters. Rey could have sworn she caught him once or twice practicing smiling in the mirror.

               “And you, Admiral Poe?” The small Tynnan asked, its big eyes swiveling down the line.

Poe, his good nature rolling off him in waves, shrugged. “I think Finn here has an excellent point. But truly, I wish to pay my respects to my fallen comrades and their families. We won, but it was a long, difficult war. It took a toll on everyone.” He nodded, his eyes downcast.

_Damn, what a perfect answer_. Rey’s heart leapt into her throat as she realized her answer was expected next. She swallowed, trying to focus on the one reporter like Leia had suggested in times like this. The Tynnan stared in earnest. Rey cleared her throat and leaned forward into the com.

               “I, uh, I think I’d like to continue my training with Luke Skywalker.” Her voice echoed.

An awed chatter spread around the chambers. The Tynnan almost fell off his pod. “Does this mean you’re almost done with your training, Champion Rey? Will you soon be a Jedi Master?”

The large knot in her throat caught her words and threw them back down into her stomach. After an impossible eternity, Poe put an arm around her shoulders, smiling brilliantly yet again.

               “I think that’s between her and Master Skywalker, wouldn’t you say? After all, a Jedi doesn’t reveal her secrets.”

The crowd broke into a relaxed laugh, the tension released by Poe’s gesture. Leia was also quick on the recovery.

               “Next question, please?”

On the media platform, a Chevin raised its grey trunk. Leia pointed, a signal of recognition. The pachyderm-like creature bellowed, clearing its throat. Slowly, it flapped its giant ears, and looked up to the General. When it spoke, its voice was thin, reedy.  

“And what of Prince Ben Organa Solo?”

Rey’s hand clutched the arm chair beside her. The crowd fell into an uneasy silence. A few cameras flashed now as though most were suddenly hesitant, fearing what would occur in the next few moments.

Most days, she tried to act like he wasn’t there.

In the stretching silence, Rey leaned forward hesitantly, looking past Poe, past Finn, past General Organa, to the man wrapped in dark navy blue. And there he sat, the lost son of Han Solo— wearing the face of his murderer.

His scar was more prominent than ever, a disrupted sliver of skin crawling up the brunt of his face. His hair, longer than ever before, brushed the tops of a soft velvet dinner jacket and was combed back, out of his sharp face. A thickly-threaded waistcoat came up high around his broad chest. The stark white of the tailored shirt beneath the blue material framed his pale hands, one of which sat casually on the top of his armchair. Regality was something that came naturally to him.

Ben Solo dropped his head, his chin hovering above the dark blue cravat. It was a moment before Rey realized he was acknowledging the reporter.

In the chamber lights, his figure was illuminated, like a spotlight. There, it came again, the same curious image Rey had seen before, weeks ago, in passing. In the light, and from time to time, it was undeniable: Ben Solo’s hair was a shade of dark brown.

Not black.

               “Needmo Mon, isn’t it?” His heavy voice, each word with its own statement, reverberated through the com. The Chevin nodded slowly. General Organa was still as a statue, and the chambers were utterly silent now. Ben’s throat moved slightly before he spoke again. “I have no further plans, except to serve the people and bring order to the Galaxy. I will help the Coalition progress, in whatever way I can. In whatever way, my mother sees fit.”

His head once again dipped, this time towards the woman on his left, and his words were completely empty of malice or contempt. Another infinite moment passed, but Leia’s eyes had softened. Her smile drained slightly of its blinding brightness, to a gentle, soothing level, and she reached forward and covered his hand with hers.

* * *

For three months after the death of Snoke, Kylo Ren had been kept in a private room in a discreet building on Naboo, with around-the-clock watch of at least five guards. Every day at dawn, General Leia Organa appeared at his door, urged the guards aside and went into the dark room. Every night at near midnight, she would leave. This went on, day in and day out. In the beginning, she emerged, her arms full of used medical supplies— wraps covered in blood, wet rags, and empty adrenaline pens. In the beginning, she was wary, and her eyes were wet constantly.

Towards the middle, she came in with less and less medical supplies, and more tomes, holopads, and recordings. She came in with clothes, soap, hot meals, and lamps.

She was called multiple times to various summits, Resistance meetings, and eventually House sessions. But she politely declined every single one. When questioned, she would simply respond with: “my son is home and he needs me.”

And time passed; tomes replaced needles, and reed mats replaced bandages.

No guard could ever comment on what they heard, if anything, from behind the walls. Even the frantic comminiques requesting Organa’s presence from across the Galaxy slowed one day, then stopped. The infant Coalition needed to breathe on its own. Gradually, the eye of the universe slid away from the Solo family, from their grief and pain and suffering, to the new government that was steadily taking place. It followed the brief skirmishes here and there, and despite the original leader to the once great Resistance being absent from its mix, somehow stability returned, finally free from the rough grip of the Dark Side.

And then, one day, after one hundred and eight days of silence, a young man, tall, dark, with a scar erupting up the center of his face, emerged from the privacy of his quarters, dressed in pale blue. Leia Organa followed quickly behind him, her face no longer tearstained. She said to the people, look, my son has come home to me.

Leia never asked anyone to trust him, or to believe him, or even forgive him. Senators, military leaders, and some of her closest friends were forced to choose between their hatred of the First Order, and the infallible strength and wisdom of one of the galaxy’s greatest heroes. Of course there was backlash, arguments, and thoroughly concerned parties, but in the face of all judgement, scorn, and distain, Organa seemed to grow about a foot taller, her face as stern and threatening as ever, and concluded for everyone witnessing one simple and inarguable truth:

Kylo Ren was finally dead.

* * *

Rey breathed a sigh of relief as the velvet curtains swung closed behind her, blocking out the roaring of the crowd and the brilliantly flashing lights. The first official Coalition meeting had ended in thunderous applause, and the House was being ushered back out through the chamber exit, to reconvene at a local representative’s estate to celebrate the final victory and beginning of a new era, in general high fashion.

Rey watched, leaning into a corner, as the House walked by, chattering amongst themselves about hope and prosperity. No corruption, Organa had promised, and truth be told, each member’s face was alight, as though truly eager to make a change. Rey was also acutely aware that they had all been strongly encouraged to join by the former princess— hand-picked, one might say.

               “C’mon now, sunshine, the night has just begun.” Finn appeared and took her by the arm, leading her down the red carpeted hallway. “There’s at least three hours left of boring conversation.”

Poe, also appearing out of thin air, took up her other arm and they began to walk. Rey, despite the growing ache in her feet, grinned in spite of herself.

               “They don’t give out medals to Champions for chickening out when it comes to the politics,” Poe said solemnly.

Rey feigned aghast. “Medals? Finn, did you get a medal for being a Champion? I didn’t get a medal for being a Champion.”

Finn’s mouth dropped, feigning indignation. “No, ma’am, I did not get a medal. Poe, where’s your medal?”

               “Yeah, soldier, cough it up!” Rey jeered.

Poe shook his head, grinning at the two of them. Rey giggled. “You know what? My medal is shoved so far up your—,”

A feeling, like there had been exposed electrical wire placed directly into her spine, made Rey freeze in her tracks. Finn frowned. “What?”

               “Oh, don’t stop on my account.” The three paused as Leia Organa came up behind them. She too was grinning, obviously having overheard. Following her, Ben Solo joined them.

The harsh light of the chamber had stolen the color from his face, making his cheeks even hollower. But here, under the warm light of the hallway, he was flushed with natural pinks and browns. The slip of regality had shifted, and now, no longer in front of a crowd, his broad shoulders slouched slightly. Still, he towered over all of them, a pale obelisk. His gaze drifted from Finn to Rey. They made eye contact and she ground the backs of her teeth together.

These days, he was rarely seen without his mother somewhere nearby. He would be gone from public appearances for weeks, and often only came to ones of grand importance, like this one. On one of the former inspections of the aircraft hangers, a seething pilot had made a hissing comment to Rey that the Prince had been pistol-whipped one too many times and now his royal jewels resided in his mother’s handbag. Rey, who didn’t feel the need to correct the idiotic pilot— that Kylo Ren, Ben Solo, whoever could peel the flesh from the pilot’s bones with a flick of his long wrist— only shrugged, and continued to tightening a bolt. _He could break out any time he wants to_ , the pilot murmured as the family walked by.

And yet . . .

And yet . . .

Something told her that he was exactly where he wanted to be.

Organa didn’t notice the small exchange between the young Jedi and her son. “Do tell me, Poe, where _is_ your medal?”

Just above his collar, Poe’s neck went dark. “Uhm, it’s in a very hard to reach place, ma’am.”

               “Then you better keep it there,” the general replied with a wink.

               “Excellent speech, General,” Finn said, after a beat, his own cheeks a muddled pink. “The Galaxy feels safe once again.”

Leia smirked at him.

               “Madam,” a House aid approached. “The room you requested is ready.”

“Thank you,” Organa said, and the aid bowed in his retreat. Organa’s smile faded as she turned from the representative to the three young Champions.

               “What is it?” Rey asked immediately. She sensed trepidation, fear, worry, sadness, but faith . . . and the threads of secrecy.

Organa looked down the hall to the House, chatting among themselves. She watched them go, her face suddenly heavy, as if she wished she could follow them, and for some reason could not. She sighed and clasped her hands; the General’s next words weighed her soul.

Rey remembered seeing old images of her, just after the fall of the Empire. She was radiantly beautiful, and a princess to boot. Before her stood a woman, wizened by years of loss and pain, her brown hair lightened to a dirty grey. And yet, still she crackled with brilliant fire. Like a powerful engine, Leia Organa clung to life, and it clung to her. She rocked with absolute conviction.

               “My dear friends,” she began.

From beside her, Ben shifted, minutely.

               “I have to ask you the impossible.” Leia looked at the three Champions, her gaze holding them all. “You have fought this war right by my side, and never strayed. You are the reason the Galaxy was given hope again, and for that, trillions of lives are saved by your actions. Without you, and your courage, my family would have been splintered forever.

               But I must ask you for your duty once again.”

Poe straightened to full height. Organa met his gaze. “With all due respect, ma’am, there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

               “Nor I,” Finn said firmly.

               “Nor I.” Rey felt her throat burn, but her eyes were dry.

Leia Organa smiled weakly. “You don’t know what I’m asking of you. This road will be long, painful. You are volunteering for another war, my friends. You don’t know what you will lose.”

Organa’s calming presence flexed across the three Champions, and when she turned her head, her son was enveloped too. A crease appeared in the center of his forehead and there was moment of silent communication between Leia Organa and Ben Solo.

               “My opinion still stands, ma’am,” Poe said. “I think I speak for all of us here.”

               “You might come to regret that decision,” Organa replied with solemn face. Rey’s stomach tightened. Somewhere, deep down, in the pulse of the Living Force within her, the pool she had steadily gaining access to shimmered. She didn’t know how or why, but Rey knew if she agreed, everything would change— again.

               “Prince Ben Organa Solo, erm, uh, sir,” the aid appeared again, looking a little more flustered. “We have the materials as you ordered.”

Organa’s son nodded, and the corners of his eyes crinkled. But he too looked solemn as he looked back at the three. His jaw moved, as if considering to speak, but in the end decided against it. He bent forward in what seemed to be a bow, but at his height, he could have just been an adjustment in his coat.

His mother watched him go, her hands clasped before her.

               “Leia.” Poe stepped forward and put a hand on her shoulder, gently, like he would approach his own mother. “We will follow you anywhere.”

Leia smiled again, and covered his hand. “Is this true?”

               “Let’s go,” Rey grinned to her friends. Leia watched her for a second too long, before nodding in the direction of where her son went.

The general led the three Champions down a separate hallway, away from the political arena, and the rushing crystalline city outside— and Rey knew her place would always be in the middle, always fighting, and that’s the way it would forever be.

At the far end, Leia pressed her palm to the scanner and the door chirped in recognition, and slid open. A conference room humming in low lighting came into view as Rey walked through the door. A handful of generals and former Resistance fighters sat around a round table, but with four strategic open seats at the center. Many of the leaders dipped their heads in respect as Organa took her seat.

 Ben Solo stood at the front of the room, a small black device in his hand. He was focused intently on the projector in the middle of the table. The Resistance leaders only glanced at him out of the corner of their eyes, as if staring too long would blind them.

The dark lights on the walls combined with the green hum of the projector blurred his features, as though he were underwater.

Rey took a seat on the other side of Finn.

There was a silent beat before the lights lowered completely, and Solo’s face became iridescent.

               “Three months ago, General Leia Organa came to me, wanting to know about three things.” He motioned with the device in hand and the system projected the image of a thin wooden rod into the air. Its bottom tendril swirled into a curl, and the opposite end glowed purple. “One, the Darkstaff.”

               “That looks like just a dumb stick,” one of the captains muttered.

Something sinister flickered in her mind, like a tentacle. _It’s not_.

               “Sentient and bloodthirsty, this staff aims to destroy wherever it goes. Created several thousand years before the Clone Wars, it seeks out weak emotion and feeds from it. Once in the possession of Darth Rivan, it was lost in the Cularian system before being supposedly destroyed at the Heart Tree.”

Ben waved his device again, and the floating projection changed.

“Two, the Phobis devices.” A red pyramid hovered several inches in the air, turning Ben’s face an oppressive scarlet.  “Frequently used by Darth Sidious from inside what was once the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, these devices channel the darkness of the Force instigate fear and panic. This is partly why the old Jedi Order culled these weak emotions from their code.”

“And three, the Helm of Dathka Graush.” From within the Force, Rey heard a war-torn scream. She glanced at Organa and knew the older woman felt it too. “It gives the wearer incredible strength and Force abilities. Like any other Sith artifact, it slowly warps the mind, letting it give way to fear, anger, and hatred. Furthermore, it has been known to affect the weather.”

               “Each of these are imbued with the darkest of Sith power, making these objects Sith artifacts. There are many other Sith artifacts that the Jedi order and others have attempted to collect and keep from the wrong hands over the many years. At the end of the fall of the Empire, the Sanctum of the Exalted was broken into and while Emperor Sidious kept many of these artifacts as trophies within his chambers, others were sold off to the highest bidder. Recently, our sources report that several of these artifacts have dropped off any and every radar. We suppose someone might be attempting to collect them, for what purpose, if any, we are unsure.”

Ben set down the device on the long table. The image collapsed and the lights restored themselves. “Your mission, as defenders of the Light, is to find these artifacts, among many others, bring them here for them to be disposed of once and for all.”

An unsettling silence crept over the conference. Rey sensed white-hot anger flowing from a man in the back. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were focused entirely on Solo.

               “And who will be leading this venture?” He asked, his voice low. He was an older man, the hair framing his face going grey. Rey knew him as Captain Bethane.

               “I will be, Captain,” Organa said, her tone clipped. As the other Force-sensitive in the room, Leia must have felt the loud displeasure. “Think of this as your first debrief. You will await further instructions in the morning.”

Solo’s face was rigid, too stiff. Distrust and frustration emanated from the captain like plumes of smoke.

Leia stood and everyone seated stood with her. “Thank you, Ben, our team is now informed of their orders. But tonight, our Coalition has become a reality. So please, for the sake of the damn galaxy, get some sleep.”

* * *

               “So you think Leia is serious about hunting down every one of the Sith artifacts?”

It was well beyond midnight in Finn’s apartment overlooking Christophsis. The man himself was asleep on the floor, a pillow under his head, his face turned away from the crackling fireplace between his two friends.

The three had hauled off from the celebrations soon after Leia ended the meeting. Rey watched the generals go, their mouths drawn in concentration, as she and her friends waited for the lift to take them up to Finn’s place. Outside in the streets, parades were continuing and music blared. Confetti and balloons glittered in the floodlights. Leia Organa and her son followed out of the room after. They both appeared drained, as though a great weight dragged on their core. Rey avoided eye contact with Solo as he walked by.

In the late hour, far off on the ground below, a firework exploded on the streets and delighted screams echoed up into the sky.

Poe leaned against a high-backed chair, a cigarra between his teeth and his eyes on the deck of cards in front of him. Opposite, Rey, curled up in Poe’s jacket that was often traded between the three, shifted uncomfortably. She was still in her evening gown— and she was losing this round of cards.

               “I don’t know,” she sighed truthfully. “It’s a lot, on top of everything else. I still think we’re doing the right thing by helping.”

Poe nodded slowly, inhaling slightly on the cigarra. “If she’s serious about stamping out any Sith resurgence, this is one helluva way to go about it.”

               “It’s always been a Sith Lord, or someone dark, who upsets the balance of the Force. The government is soon to follow after that. I think she’s trying to get ahead this time around.”

Poe exhaled and tapped the burnt ash into a tray at his bare feet. He suddenly got a dark look on his face. He was quiet a moment before responding. “But she’s making a mistake if she thinks she can let that monster off his leash.”

Rey frowned. “You mean Solo? Is that fair—,”

               “What’s not fair is that arrogant brat paces around here like he owns the damn joint, when he should be rotting in hell like the rest of his First Order buddies.”

Rey bit her cheek, staring at her cards. Poe hadn’t been there the night Snoke died. He hadn’t seen the almost graphic way the son of Han Solo broke free from Kylo Ren. She couldn’t begin to describe what she witnessed without quickly resorting to litanies of curses because quite simply, the words weren’t there. There _was_ a nearly palpable change. He wore the mask of a mass murderer, of a harden psychopath, but what if that’s all it was— a mask?

Was it through the Force she noticed the imperceptible change?

He no longer blazed like a raging inferno, hatred and fury and agony, bleaching his bones.

He crackled now. Caught somewhere between a smoldering ember and smoke, Rey saw something different. Ben Solo had done physical nothing to earn the title of a changed man, but in his mother’s eyes, and somehow, neither by sight or sense or touch or smell, this ghost, this contrasted specter, really wasn’t Kylo Ren.

Another firecracker boomed in the early morning. Another cheerful whoop and music played faintly from somewhere.

Whether that was for better or, somehow, impossibly worse, it was too early to tell. 

The fire crackled as shriveled log fell into the stacks.

               “You don’t think he’s changed?”

Poe shrugged, the dim light casting dark shadows from his long eyelashes. Rey didn’t like this silence.

               “The man’s heart is dark, Rey, as black as they come. Give him a chance, and he’ll kill us all without a second thought.”

On the floor, Finn shifted, muttering in his sleep. Poe’s anger lessened, his face flashing with concern for the briefest of moments, before he took a long hard drag on his cigarra.

               “Look, I’m not saying I trust him . . . but why. . .” Rey trailed off.

               “Why do I hate him, Rey? I knew him,” Poe said, quietly, bitterly. Rey froze, looking up to her friend. Poe didn’t talk much about his past, even to Finn. Rey, coming from a murky past herself, never pressed the issue. But she rarely had she seen such a visceral reaction from him— except whenever the First Order came up. “My mother, Shara Bey, was best friends with Leia, so I grew up with the Solo kid. Even if by some stupid miracle that monster Kylo Ren isn’t lurking like a damn shark, waiting for the first drop of blood in the water. . . this is still the same guy who abandoned his family. Forget Kylo Ren— Ben Solo was so weak, he gave up his free will to the Sith. That makes you still a bastard to me. And once a bastard, always a bastard.

               And another thing, don’t you think it’s a little strange that it only took a few months to convert him from being absolute evil? We never see him, except when Leia lets him out. Maybe only when he’s tranquilized . . .”

               “You think Leia is drugging her own son?”

Poe looked away, as though horrified by his own accusation. But he shook his head briefly, before dragging on the cigarra. “I think we want to see what we want to see. I _know_ she loved Han more than anything in this universe and that _thing_ is all she has left of him.”

Since her encounter on Starkiller base all those many years ago, she hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Kylo Ren— until that night on Korriban, when a Resistance victory seemed truly eminent. Leia went along, knowing that he would be there and knowing fully well this might be the last chance to ever lay eyes on her son again.

But what she brought back. . . was it real reformation or a wretched form of apocalyptic damnation?

Rey, her internal conflict still raging high, reached for Poe’s stash of Fox Beer and took a swig.

There came a knock at the door.

For every Jedi, there is a unique imprint in the senses from when another force-sensitive individual reaches within range. For strangers, it is only a shadow on the peripheral vision. With acquaintances, friends, lovers, family, the sense is stronger. And whenever Master Luke was nearby, Rey swore she could taste peppermint.

She bounded to her feet, scrambling over Finn to the door. “I’ll get it—,”

Rey opened the door, and indeed found the distant eyes of Luke Skywalker staring into her own. He smiled his waning smile. “I hope I haven’t woken you up,” he said.

In a silent agreement between himself and his sister, Luke tended to stay at the edges of the political arena. This was a new age Leia was determined to bring in, and if the Jedi had been once again established as the executive branch of the Coalition, what would have changed?

Rey shook her head and stepped outside into the hallway. The hallway was empty at this time of night. In the streets, the drunks were headed home, celebrations to begin again in a few hours. The old Jedi looked out of place in _Valiant_ hotel, with its shimmering crystalline structure and tall glass walls. Luke, in his brown, tattered robes, belonged in the Outposts, moving on the point of invisible perception, not under the floodlights of a sparkling city. She missed the days on the cragged island of Ahch-To, where things made sense. Here, where secrecy was currency, it was difficult to know where she stood.

For him to come to her, especially at night, there must be something important he needed.

Rey realized she had left her shoes inside, and she had approached her master in the flimsy evening gown and a rugged pilot’s jacket. But then again, Luke had never been one for much tradition.

               “I’ve been up with my friends. A lot has happened today.”

Luke smiled softly, nodding. “The Coalition. It seems successful.”

               “We can only hope.”

               “Rey,” her master murmured. His hands were clasped in front him, his eyes downcast. She recognized the look of weariness; she had seen it earlier today on his sister. “Would you walk with me? I have something to discuss with you, and quite honestly, it can’t wait.”

Rey nodded vigorously. He led her to the lift and sent the machine upwards. The public quarters they were staying in were reserved for royalty and dignitaries, so the top level gave a spectacular view of Christophsis.

The planet’s moon was brilliant silver, the eye of a giant in the sky. Luke walked into a gust of air, his eyes closing, and Rey felt his living Force sway like trees. He welcomed the air, but Rey’s bare feet stung in the cold.

Up here, the view of the city glittered like a spider’s golden web.

Luke sat down on a metal bench and motioned for her to join. She slid down next to him as he gazed at the heavens above them. Here, you could hear nothing of the waning celebrations below.

“You have been one of the most dedicated students I’ve ever known,” Luke began softly. “You have trained long and hard to master your skills.”

               “Thank you,” Rey said, her palms sweaty. She rubbed them on the insides of Poe’s jacket sleeves.

               “You deserve every bit of praise that comes your way. But I can sense you are troubled. You have reached a point where you can no longer progress unless you can clear your worry and your doubt. Before the Rise of the Empire, the Jedi were told to ignore their fear, but I’ve see what that can do. However, your fears, while valid, should not control you, and I sense you are on that path.”

               “No, Master, I can do it. I can clear my mind. I—,”

Luke shook his head gently. The wind picked up again and brushed his grey, coarse hair from his face. He reached into his robes and pulled out what looked to be a very old book. Leather-bound, its cover was blank, save for a few words written in a language she didn’t know. The old Jedi looked at it fondly, as though it was a great comforting weight for him.

               “Rey, I am not reprimanding you. You have been missing a part of yourself, of your identity, for a very long time. To ask you to continue without knowing would be selfish and unwise of me.”

“Without knowing what, sir?”

Luke smiled. “Without knowing your family.”

Her throat was suddenly drier than any Jakku desert. “What do you mean?”

“In my lifetime, I have seen and done a great many things. I have met a great many people, and been a great many places. In my travels, I have learned something that I didn’t think possible.”

               “What?” her small voice asked.

Luke’s gaze met her own. He reached forward and pressed the book into her hands. “That my master had a child, and that child grew up, and had you. You are the living granddaughter of the Clone War General, Obi Wan Kenobi. And this is his journal.”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I am incredible fan of the Rey Kenobi theory. It makes the most logical sense in terms of narrative, and like a billion other reasons, some of which we’ll explore in later chapters. Also, basically, Ben Solo is a bit of a leper, a traitor— the least bad thing he is seen as. But Leia has pulled strings, essentially every favor she has accumulated in her time as “Galaxy Hero” to keep him out of prison because she truly believes he’s been saved— and a big FUCK YOU to anyone who dares challenge her. The galaxy kind of owes their entire existence to her, so nobody’s really going push that envelope . . . not yet . . .  
> So one epic closes . . . and another one opens. See you all next week.  
> But because I’m an incredible nerd, I had an incredibly good time finding fancy outfits for our heroes (and anti-heroes) to wear.  
> What I imagined Rey wearing: https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/28/09/e0/2809e0a372352406d5e91cc721531a7f.jpg  
> What I imagined Ben wearing: http://65.media.tumblr.com/1dbd33075f4e2198f24dbddbab8fc835/tumblr_o1fl02FAsL1rsst3uo10_r1_1280.jpg


	3. Chapter 3: Harrowing Good Intentions

I have so much I want to tell you, and nowhere to begin - JD Salinger; Seymour - An Introduction

* * *

 

**Chapter 3: Harrowing Good Intentions**

Of his more recent regrets, not wearing insulated leggings was Ben Solo’s most aggravating one. Behind him, the squad three of the Assembly— the official title of the Sith artifact collection force— waded in silence, blasters raised out of the murky green water of the planet Tof. Above them, shrikes screamed at each other in greeting, searching for landing in the miles of open water. A grey wind picked up, showering Ben’s face in a thousand green droplets.

They had received word two hours ago that the information regarding the Bracers of Najus was accurate. His mother apologized for waking him up so early in the morning, and he felt inclined to not tell her that he had spent another night without sleep. She informed him of the mission: the planet, the potential artifact, and the squad he’d be leading. Captain Bethane, of course, was among the troops assigned to the task. Ben’s mouth quirked to the side for a moment when his mother told him that.

               “I didn’t get to choose. The leading officers are assigned at random,” she said over the com, by way of apology.

               “And it’s going to be _my_ fault if some sea creature happens to take a bite out of him.”

               “That’s why you’re going, Ben,” her voice hummed through the static. “To minimize casualties, should anything happen.”

_Minimize casualties_. The thought was a strange one, but his mother had spoken it without any hesitation, without any pause. She believed in him, wholly.

It would have to be enough for the both of them.

               “What are we looking for?” Captain Bethane barked from behind, stirring Ben from his reverie. Hastily, the captain added, “sir.”

               “The ground will turn from soil to metal when we’re close to the Temple,” Ben responded. He locked his spine to prevent a shiver from being made visible. The wind splashed him again. Lined legging from now on, he made a note in his head.

               “Temple?” One of the men, Ludgate, asked from the back. “We’re looking for a Sith Temple?”

               “Sorry, gentlemen, we might get our blasters dirty on this one,” Ben replied. Beneath the water, his foot hit something round, like a hatch handle. He didn’t need to look back to feel the frown on Ludgate’s face.

He was about to reach down to see what he had bumped into, when he sensed something move on the edges of the Force. Something big.

Ben lifted a hand to stop Captain Bethane as he approached. The captain’s face darkened at the command.

               “What? Snagged your dress on something?”

The big thing was traveling, fast, right towards them, but he couldn’t pinpoint the location.

               “Shut up,” Ben muttered. Standing up right, he rapidly scanned the horizon, searching for movement in the water. “There’s something coming.”

A few men in the back froze, horror on their faces, but Bethane rolled his eyes. “Yeah, _Jedi_? What have you got for us? Aggressive turtle makin’ a path for us?”

Without warning, a tentacle two feet in diameter and sixteen in height, launched out of the water. It grabbed Ludgate around the waist, and launched him into the grey. Five more tentacles appeared and knocked several of the men under.

               “You tell me,” Ben’s finger trailed across the trigger of the blaster on his hip. The weapon felt heavy in his hand. “Does that look like an aggressive turtle to you?”

               “OPEN FIRE!” Bethane screamed and blasted the arms of the giant creature. The remaining men joined in. Beneath the water, the monster shrieked.

The whirling tentacles slowed. Every droplet of fear was detailed on the men’s faces. Their blasters made a deep, echoing booming noise with each release. Their screams were hollow.

Ben Solo was concentrating.

He could hear the drum beat of his heart in his ears, feel it in his chest. The hand on the trigger wavered. He tunneled the Force, scanning the giant creature for weak points in its incredible strength. But the deeper he dove, the harder he looked, the more the darkness stirred.

His own breath was harsh in his ears.

_Minimize casualties, minimize casualties, minimize casualties._

When he raised the weapon, despite a terrible but weak and distant echo nagging that his fist should be clenched around a weapon made for powerful kings ( _not fools_ ), he was glad for the security of the recoil.

He fired into the knuckle of the massive creature and it released its grip on Bethane.

The darkness receded.

* * *

               “I can hear you not concentrating from four sectors up.”

Rey drove her nails into her palms, Luke’s voice the final crack in her focus, and the levitating book, several stones, and a plant came crashing to the ground. Her eyes snapped open and she huffed. She glared at the smirking Jedi who leaned in the doorway. She stood up from her cross-legged position and angrily snatched up the meditation stones.

               “I’m concentrating just fine,” Rey scowled. Which they both knew was a lie. Her skin was too tight on her bones, her muscles tense. The meditation stones weren’t working, and of course, the two hours of sleep only added to the litany of frustrations.

_Valiant_ was so thrilled to house the Champions and the Organa family, they had eagerly converted a bedroom near the local garden as a temporary meditation chamber. Rey had wandered down there shortly after dawn when the parades began again and the noise was forcing her to reread the same sentence of Obi Wan’s third year as a padawan— only a few pages into the journal.

At night, when the Jakku wind was cool, and the panicked starving was momentarily at bay, Rey nestled down in her cockpit with scratchy blankets and reed matting and absorbed technician manuals, old star charts, and ironically herbology texts— whatever she could get her hands on without anything bigger chasing her down for it. Thick tomes, to pamphlets, to posters, they all became ties to a larger world, an ever-expanding galaxy in which her family, somewhere, resided. Years and tastes evolved, and there were times she went with nothing to read, and exhaustion from cracking open the skeletons of old Empire ships overtook her more and more frequently. But still Rey secretly considered herself an excellent reader.

Which was why Rey was ready to scream.

The damn thing was in code.

The syntax was rough and bumpy. In some places it made no sense whatsoever. In her hands, she held her first link, her only link, to her family, and she was reading it slower than hippabore.

               “It doesn’t make any damn sense!” Rey snapped and she roughly snatched up the meditation stones. “The journal keeps talking about systems that don’t exist, and events that never happened! It’s just rambling about forms and practices that you never even mentioned, Master, and the Jedi Council—what a bunch of loons!”

Luke smirked and picked up the journal, smiling into its pages as if sharing some secret.

               “After the Fall of the Jedi and the rise of the Empire, Obi Wan recognized that the information in this book could be potentially very dangerous for the remaining survivors of the council. So he went back through and changed everything that could lead to someone being found and killed.”

               “So it is a code!” Rey exclaimed, standing up right and throwing her loose hair into a wiry halo around her head. She locked away the single thought had been slowly building in the back of her mind. It was a thought that scaled her through, like a saber to the chest. No matter how hard she tried, how ardently she read, Obi Wan felt nothing familiar, certainly nothing like what she imagined a grandfather would feel like, sound like. But Luke always had a way of knowing things, even things she tried to keep hidden. He watched her joy fade, replaced by a block of fear.

Rey pulled a strand of hair behind her ear, afraid to make eye contact.

               “I don’t know him, Master Luke,” she said, quietly. “I mean, obviously . . . but he is still such a stranger. This is his handwriting, his thoughts, but I—he—”

               “He doesn’t feel like family.”

Her master nodded and crossed his arms over the journal.

“Yes, Rey, it is code. But I don’t have the key. I got this journal from one of Obi Wan’s oldest friends, Dax, with specific instructions to help Obi Wan’s lost granddaughter.”

Rey’s mouth went dry. “How did you know it was me?”

Luke sighed, his forehead creasing for a moment. “Dax knew. I don’t know how but he knew your name and that you were abandoned as a child.”

Something flared from within Rey. “Remind me again, why you didn’t tell me this when we first met?”

               “Please understand, Rey, when Obi Wan first met me, he told me my father had been murdered by Darth Vader, and he had been a pilot. Technically, both lies. I never intended to do the same to you, but I didn’t know your father, or your mother. To be truthful, I wasn’t sure how you would take it. What would you have done if some old guy on a rock told he knew your grandfather from forty years ago?”

Rey exhaled, her anger depleting to a frustrated confusion once more. He was right. She never would have trusted information like that; it would have been too good to be true. Luke smiled his bright smile, one Rey had come to recognize as the one he used to get out of trouble with Leia.

               “Do you know what happened to them, my family?” Rey asked.

Luke sadly shook his head, the charming smile evaporating. “I was hoping this book could give us some answers.”

Rey’s throat constricted. “Me too.”

               “But this was never my story. I wish I could hand you the truth, but that’s not my place as your friend, or even your Master. You must search your feelings and find it for yourself. And,” he added, the mysterious smirk back on his face, “the library here on Christophsis has a port to the Jedi Archives on Coruscant. We keep records of all the Jedi there, including personal recordings. For now, it can be a place to start.” 

Her eyes grew big and she lunged for the book, but Luke easily pulled it out of her reach.

               “Ah, ah, you have to have the proper access codes to get into the archives. And I don’t have them.”

Rey frowned. “Okay, then who does!”

* * *

She trotted up the crystalline staircases, skipping up the last two with a jump. Narrowly avoiding a pack of Ortolan monks, Rey yelped an apology, ignoring several glares, before bounding towards the large plated doors that led to the medical wing of the capital building. The door was propped open, and inside, several medical droids bustled back and forth between soldiers prone and groaning on beds.

Rey slowed her speed. She recognized the insignia on their arm bands. It was the same that Leia had personally delivered to her, Finn, and Poe: the mark of the Assembly. These men had recently gotten back from a recovery mission, and something didn’t want the artifact taken. Some were missing their arms, one was profusely bleeding. Rey almost stopped: one’s face was blurred purple, with giant welts covering his nose and lips.

               “Sit back, sir, and we’ll get you taken care of,” the med droid chirped.

She had no idea the missions had already begun. The satchel that held Obi Wan’s journal knocked against her hip, heavy. Did this mean Poe and Finn were out there too?

Across the wing, Rey caught sight of Leia’s light hair, pulled back in her usual braid. She was talking to someone with concern. As she approached, she noticed the large red cord of welts and bruises across the soldier’s bare back. Though his torso was wide, the wounds wrapped across his shoulder and down to his opposite hip. Whatever had grabbed him, it held on— hard.

               “Are you certain?” Leia asked, her brow furrowed.

The soldier nodded. “I know what I saw. It was a Kraken that attacked us, but the Temple itself was unlocked. Someone had been there before. But they didn’t have a deep enough knowledge of the Dark to steal the artifact.”

His broad back was littered with white scars, some having never properly healed. Rey recognized them instantly, sharing many of the same kind: saber scars. He had been at the mercy of someone with no restraint. The visible freckles were nearly lost in the small white lattices and mud.

Leia’s frown grew darker. “Well, this is alarming.”

Rey reached out with the Force to sense the cause of Organa’s distress— and bumped into something solid. The soldier turned and Ben Solo was staring at her.

Rey blinked, her neck warming. She suddenly felt as though she had walked into something extremely private.

               “Rey,” Organa said, her face breaking into a smile.

Ben quickly stood up and slipped a Preter jacket over his chest wound that matched the one across his back. The scar running across his rigid right shoulder up through his forehead was momentarily visible before the jacket covered him fully. Rey focused on Organa. O _nly_ on Organa.

               “How can I help you?” Leia asked.

               “I hope I’m not interrupting,” Rey replied. “The men . . . what happened?”

Leia glanced behind her and sighed. “Assembly’s first mission went as well as we could have hoped— which is saying a lot. We retrieved the Sith artifact from its location, but at some personal cost. It’s locked up tight in an underground vault.”

               “Are Finn and Poe out on a mission?” Rey was unable to keep the worry from her voice. Leia’s eyes widened momentarily.

               “No, no, our intel isn’t good enough for a full mission anywhere else.” Leia continued to frown. “I didn’t call on you for this one because Luke told me what he gave you, and I figured you would want some time alone.”

               “Is this about your family?” Ben suddenly asked.

This was the first time in recent memory that Ben Solo had addressed her directly. He must have done it some other time, asked something, commented on some statement, but as he towered before her, his dark eyes rimmed with what felt like legitimate concern, Rey could remember no such instance.

               “Yes,” she replied, “Luke is helping me find my family.”

Kylo Ren had been built of searing shadows and scarlet light— and anger, so much anger. Ben, Ben Solo, was blue and silence, strenuous silence. She had forcibly knocked against his concentration, this impenetrable wall that looped his psyche like a wrought iron gate. While she quietly disagreed with Finn that Kylo Ren still lurked beneath a passive façade, there was not a chance in Hoth that she would trust Solo, even for a second.

Rey shot him a defiant glare as if to confirm this.

               “And what have you found?” Leia asked.

Ben’s eyes may have narrowed for a second, but the movement was lost when he looked at his mother. Rey thought darkly of what a rematch between the old Sith and herself as a new, trained Jedi would be like. How quickly she would make all thoughts of betraying Leia evaporate from that stupid head—

_Stop_ , her thoughts scolded her, _you can’t think like that. He’s one of us, if only for Leia’s sake_.

Rey swallowed and straightened up. “Nothing, m’lady. Obi Wan— my grandfather— he wrote everything in code and I can’t seem to understand it.”

               “I can help. If you would like.” Ben intruded again. “I was very good at decoding in the Academy.”

Rey felt the satchel’s weight on her hip again and her fingers clenched around the strap. She would have rather dropped her pants to her ankles in front of the entire Assembly before handing over this family secret.

               “No, I’d rather figure this out on my own.” _Poe would be proud of the ass you’re making of yourself_. “General, I was actually hoping I could have the login code to the Jedi Archives on Coruscant. Luke said all Jedi leave recordings of their progress there, and maybe there’s a clue.”

Leia nodded. “Use my code on one of the data computers in the Great Library. It should give you complete access.”

Rey smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. The smell of bacta was overpowering and it made her stomach churn. And, despite her hostility, Ben still watched her with a look of concern.

* * *

The Great Library on Christophsis was a marvel all its own, even in comparison to the Jedi Archives. The crystalline walls here were a gentle green, wrapping up into a brilliant spiked point hundreds of feet in the air. Up high, the crystal structure was thinner so soft gold light poured down onto the rows and rows of records. Vibrating in their cases, the electric data twinkled, racing along the ports. Rey got the distinct impression that she was hovering deep inside a blade of grass on a sunny day.

In the center of the room, access terminals allowed viewers to peruse their specified information on large screens, for either copying or scanning later on. A large knot rising in her throat, Rey waved briefly to the librarian making her rounds, before sliding into one of the access terminals on the far end of the row.

As a child, she imagined her parents in every way possible. Tall and skinny, short and fat— full of food, and drink, and joy— with blonde or brown hair. Her father with glasses and a beard, or with a long narrow face. Maybe he had her knack for tech, for constructing gadgets, playing with widgets to make something new, useful. Or maybe that was from— her mother always smiling, always smelling nice, warm, and a fierce pilot (maybe?)

Was from her mother that she got her penchant for spicy flavors? Did her father’s hair always release into frizzy curls in the slightest drop of humidity? Who loved the sound of the rain at night? Who would have comforted her during the sandstorms at night? Who sang better? Which one snored? Who preferred caf to tea in the morning?

A mother and father who could have been queens and kings, politicians, smugglers, guards, artisans, servers in CoCo Town diners— all possibilities—

But a grandfather?

Rey had never considered, never dreamed of what that might have meant. That a galaxy that contained her parents would extend further still into something that resembled a lineage, a legacy. A family name. Instead of home being an isolated incident, she was the heir to a line of warriors.

She swallowed and vaguely wondered if she should have brought the rest of Finn’s fox beer.

Her hands shaking, Rey entered Leia’s codes, connected to the Jedi Archives on Coruscant and waited. The Archives opened up in front of her, and with a slow hand, Rey searched the name of her grandfather: Obi Wan Kenobi.

Several articles from the Holonet immediately returned.

GENERAL KENOBI’S AGGRESSIVE FRONT AT THE BATTLE OF KAMINO SUCCESSFUL

               General Obi Wan Kenobi and his former apprentice Anakin Skywalker have given the Republic an astounding victory against the droid army on the Clone home world of Kamino. Separatist leader General Grievous had been forced to run after such a defeat . . .

CAMPAIGN AT RYLOTH A SURE VICTORY

               General Anakin Skywalker and his padawan, Commander Ahsoka Tano, brought first relief to the sieged city of Ryloth by breaking the Separatist blockade. With the help of General Obi Wan Kenobi, Commander Cody, and the brave troopers of the Ghost Company, have successfully taken a necessary landing at the nearby city of Nabat . . .

RELIC OF THE PAST OR HOPE FOR A NEW AGE: WHO SURVIVED ORDER 66?

               Witness reports claim to have seen the Clone War General Obi Wan Kenobi return to his home world of Stewjon. But how is this possible, readers may ask. The Jedi religion was wiped out by His Greatness, Emperor Palpatine, and the galaxy was assured the old days of mind-control and manipulation in the seat of the government were gone. And yet, there are those who claim some Jedi managed to survive, and one of those might be Kenobi . . .

A media clip from the Holonet sprung up to fill the screen. It was a parade. The text at the bottom read: BATTLE OF NABOO WON BY THE GUNGAN GRAND ARMY. The droid capturing the footage shot a long-ranged view of dancers, banthas, sparklers, and marching gungan. An inspiring melody rang out clear at the front, as the crowd on either side of the wide market street cheered. The parade stopped and the recording droid focused its lens on the steps of the great palace of Naboo. The King was raising something in the air, an electric, glittering orb, high above his head. The crowd cheered louder and the beat rained on. The droid’s focus turned to the small entourage surrounding the King.

Rey quickly entered a scanning program and with each face the droid focused on, the Archives information on the person appeared on the screen next to them. The gungan the droid first focused on had wide face, dribbling lips, with a smile that stretched across his entire waxy face.

**Boss Rugor Nass:**

-Species: Gungan

-Affiliation: Gungan High Council, Trade Federation, Galactic Senate

-Leader of Gungan army during the battle of Naboo

On the screen, the clip continued to play, the droid’s lens again scanning the crowd. Gungan dancers were twirling at the foot of the palace and the crowd was cheering them on. Something white and bright caught the eye of the droid.

The camera slid down and slowed again as a wall of text appeared to the right of a young woman’s powdered face. She was smiling.

**Queen Padme Amidala of Naboo**

-Species: human female

-Affiliations: Royal house of Naboo, Loyalist Committee, Imperial Senate

-Born: 14 years before the Invasion of Naboo

-Died: 19 years before the Invasion of Yavin

-Method of Death: Childbirth, resulting in Galactic icons General Leia Organa (former Alderaan Princess) and Jedi Master Luke Skywalker

Rey sat up straighter, and froze the clip, watching the white-faced Queen smile jovially at the roaring crowd. From the very little she knew about the royal family, slowing gathered from drunken arguments, to detailed discussions about the pre-Empire galaxy with Poe and Finn, Rey understood this to be Ben Solo’s grandmother— and Darth Vader’s former wife. In a word, she was beautiful, a young girl very much fit to lead a people, and undoubtedly a planet. Dressed completely in full Naboo royal robes, she looked no older than fourteen, but encapsulating the very essence of regality. This was years before her husband fell and before the birth of her children. She beamed with the joy of victory, at the success of military leadership. What was going through her head? Did she have the slightest clue of how her life would progress? Of what she would lose in the name of love? Not once, never, since the beginnings of her crash course into this new world of power and battles and life and death, never had she heard Ben Solo mention the name of his grandmother. What would she have said, had she known what her grandson became? Would things have gone differently?

The Girl Queen grinned warmly at the gungan before casting her eyes down to a small, blonde boy near the front of the entourage.

Dirty, his blue eyes squinting in the bright sun and sandy streets, and dressed in little more than slave rags, the boy was enjoying himself. Above him a sparkler exploded into a flurry of bright colors and he pointed excitedly. Queen Amidala laughed and ran a gentle hand through his hair. The boy caught the attention of someone behind him and made the motion of the explosion.

The lens turned to the young man on the other side of the Queen, and Rey’s heart erupted into her throat. She jerked the clip to a complete stop and leaned forward.

He was shorter than the gungan, his hair light and cut short, with a thin braid trailing down the back of his neck. His face was young, clean-shaven, and free of scars. His blue eyes were alight, happy. The clip had him paused just as he was replying to the little boy, his mouth open and pulled back. He was making a joke, a very funny one at that.

The program scanned the image and to the right of his face, the information dropped open.

 

**General Obi Wan Kenobi**

-Species: human male

-Former apprentice: Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn

-Former apprentice: Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker

-Born: 57 BBY

-Died: 0 BBY

-Method of Death: Murder – Sith Lord Darth Vader (previously Anakin Skywalker)

 

Here, in a crowd of victory, was her grandfather, not yet a Jedi, not yet fully trained, twenty-five, only slightly older than she was now— and not a care in the world. This was before the Clone Wars, before Order 66, long before Luke and Leia and the Galactic Empire. Long before he was a General, long before he was respected and loved, long before . . .

Her grandmother.

She had not yet reached the Battle of Naboo in the journal. Back then, he was still practicing forms, and techniques, not saving entire planets, or running around with queens.

Suddenly, Rey felt a sharp prick behind her eyes and she looked down from the screen, the image almost too painful to consider any longer. But behind her closed eyes, the image of her grandfather’s face burned hotly.

_I have so many questions . . ._

The seats to her left and right shuddered, as the pain her chest swelled. All those years, all of those lonely, terrible, fearsome years on that forsaken desolate planet— did he know? Did he care?

As much as she wanted to pull away from the terminal, stomp back to her training room, and shatter practice droids into space, she owed to herself to learn the truth. She breathed harshly, her mouth and eyes wet. Her hand shaking, she smeared the tears from her cheeks with the palms of her hands. Then she retrieved the journal from her bag, and opened it to where she left off.

Rey went back to the Archives, looking deeper into the former Jedi Council’s own personal records of their members.

* * *

Three hours later, flipping through old battle plans of the second year of the Clone Wars, she stumbled across a private file. Immediately, the bioscanner flickered to life and a blue light erupted from the small hole, engulfing her. The light stinging her eyes, Rey threw up a hand to keep herself from being blinded.

               “Detection complete. DNA accurate. Access to personal files granted.”

There came a soft whirring from the terminal and the file opened without hesitation.

Painful tears running out the corner of her eyes, Rey blinked to dull the burning sensation in her retinas.

               “Welcome back, General Kenobi.”

Rey tried to focus on the screen, her vision blurry, and attempted to reconcile what exactly she had found. Thousands audio and video files came spilling out across the screen. They reached back twenty years, one recorded at least every other day for more than five years.

Her heart swelling, Rey clicked on one at random.

On the holopad next to the terminal, a blue light shimmered and the same young Kenobi appeared, but entirely distraught. He was leaning on something, as though the recording device was set up on a table in front of him. It was clear he had been crying. His soft eyes were red and his nose was wet. He had one hand holding up his forehead and his eyes stared off camera.

Rey’s throat tightened, looking around to be sure no one else was around. She wished she was viewing this alone in her apartment. Then she leaned forward just as he began to speak.

               “This is for the Galactic Record, on the behalf of section 3.4D of the Jedi Code, when a Jedi has fallen in the line of duty.” His voice broke and he leaned back in his chair, sniffing slightly. “Jedi Master Qui Gon Jinn has been brutally murdered by the Sith Lord Darth Maul on the planet Naboo. He is succeeded by his apprentice Obi Wan Kenobi. The Order feels its loss in the heart of the Force.”

At that young Kenobi crossed his arms, his fingers rubbing the fresh tears from his eyes.

After a moment, Kenobi cleared his throat and sat up a little straighter, still not looking directly at the camera.

               “Again for the record, Darth Maul has been brought to justice by Jinn’s apprentice. He was executed for his crimes against the Order, for his crimes of treason, murder, and the use of the Dark Side of the Force. He will never hurt anyone again.”

Kenobi swallowed, his hands holding his elbows to his chest. A small figure, floating silently in the dying light of the Great Library, he looked so alone.

               “His dying wish was for me to train Anakin.” His voice had lost the formal tone, even despite his tears. Rey wondered if he cared that the camera was still recording. “He believed that Anakin is going to be our Savior, that he would bring balance to the entire galaxy. He seemed to think that one pod race was enough to prove it to everyone—,” Kenobi snorted derisively, “he can be incredibly stubborn like that— he _was_ incredibly stubborn . . . But Anakin is just a child. He’s never even seen anything other than that terrible desert wasteland. He’s been a slave his entire life, and somehow, he is going to be this, this extraordinary force for good?”

Kenobi sniffed again, his arms still crossed, and looked at his feet. “He’s still _just a child_ . . . But Qui Gon saw something in him that everyone else has missed. And if that’s not good enough for me, then . . . then I don’t deserve to be called his apprentice.”

Kenobi wiped his eyes using the back of his hand and swallowed, clearing his throat again. “I’ll begin training Anakin Skywalker as my apprentice first thing tomorrow morning.”

Then he reached forward and the projection faded.

The terminal whirred again and a purple light tumbled from the bottom of the screen. The corner of Kenobi’s journal was caught in the light. On the very top of the page, a white streak appeared where the light illuminated.

With a trembling hand, Rey reached forward and brought the rest of the book underneath the purple light. Written in between the margins were white words, only visible when the light struck the page. Her heart hammering painfully, Rey leaned forward and noticed that some of the dark words had been crossed out in white streaks, and a new word hovered in the margin above. With the addition of the new word, the syntax flowed. The sentences made sense.

For the first time since the book came into her possession, she heard someone else read the words. The same firm voice as in the projections, young at heart but of a clear determined mind, began to read words in her head that had been dead for decades.

The Great Library had closed, Rey knew that, and by the increasingly darkening light outside, it was well into the evening. By the stars, the librarian had left her there, allowing her to work. She thanked the stars and the kind woman— then she reached into her bag and pulled out a new pen.

She set the clips to autoplay and starting from page one, she wrote down the hidden white words into the margins of the journal, carefully retracing each elegant line and dot. She sat there all night, copying each word as gently as possible, her grandfather’s words at long last ringing in her ears.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Two chapters will be posted in order to catch up!


	4. Mother of Grace

Anger destroys your soul - Marvin Gaye

* * *

**Chapter 4: Mother of Grace**

The grav-car rocketed down the skylane, the decaying red sun across the city planet’s urban horizon flickering behind the towers as other speeders and starships raced in front of its scarlet light. Rey watched the passage through the tinted window with quiet delight. This was not her first time on Coruscant, the Coalition requiring her presence as Jedi then a Champion many times before, but still each visit, she witnessed something new, something different. Colors she had no concept of, food she never tasted before, and the people— the incredible buzz of life that never stilled, never faded, the light that powered this entire planet— after years of deafening, dry silence, Coruscant was an electric constantly-loaded spring; she never knew when or where the next brilliant surprise would come.

Her hand felt warm as it rested against the window, another by-product of the energized city. On her left, Finn sat quietly, his head back on the seat with his eyes closed, no doubt dozing. Next to him, Poe mirrored her, silently gazing out into the red light. Leia Organa was chatting quietly with one of the representatives of Coruscant— Brando— finalizing the opening speeches for the night. And across from Rey, Ben Solo, with his long legs buckled up under him, was gazing at his thumbs in his lap.

He hadn’t moved in ten minutes. Rey had counted.

               In the library she had found coordinates to Kenobi’s last known location before leaving for Tatooine for good. The next morning, after about three hours of sleep, she had frantically set off to find any unused ship to immediately fly out to Stewjon, but she had run into Leia instead. While ecstatic that she had found something, Leia quietly asked for one more night of duty. The leaders of Coruscant had planned a banquet for the House and the Champions to give their thanks— as many other planets had done after the fall of the First Order. And of course it was requested that all Champions attend. Rey’s eyes strained from rolling so hard. Leia promised to outfit one of their fastest ships the morning after the banquet— if she could just attend one more silly celebration.

Rey was beginning to wonder when and if the formalities would ever stop. The driver, an old member of Leia’s former security detail, took a sharp turn and began the descent on to the landing platform. The grav-car jolted, rattling the cab, and Rey’s stomach jumped into her throat, her hand making a fist around the door handle.

Ben looked up and met her gaze. In an instance, she knew she couldn’t look anywhere else if she tried, and she could have sworn he was grinning, if only with his eyes. On instinct, Rey locked her mind with the Force, the sudden rush of adrenaline making her heart pump wildly.

Their eyes were still gridlocked when Leia tapped on the glass at the driver.

“Oi, we’re trying to get there in one piece, Bark!”

“Sorry, ma’am! Got cut off at the stop by some nerve burner,” the Noghri replied, scowling. “But we should be arriving shortly.”

“Told ya we should have let Poe drive,” Finn muttered, his eyes still closed.

               Beside him, Poe grinned into his hand holding up his chin.

               Rey swallowed, the rush of Force giving her strength to break the contact. “Only if we want our front burners burnt to a crisp.”

               “Hey, that was one time,” Poe responding, feigning offense. He looked down the row to Rey who was smirking at him. “I’d like to see how you handle breaking off three old Imperial shuttles chasing you through light speed.”

               “Name the time and the place, fly boy,” Rey scoffed.

This type of banter was her favorite with Poe. After several years of being around both of them, she realized Poe brought out another side of her, one that was relaxed and easy, and undoubtedly teasing. She had known pilots like this all her life: confident, thrilling, headstrong. They often came through Jakku, looking for spare parts to repair their ships. Some ignored her, some took her pilot abilities as a joke, and some leered in ways that made her skin crawl. But none of them were as kind, gentle, or as brave as Poe Dameron.

That being said, more than once, on training days, they ended up in a physical scuffle, that often ended with Poe pulling her hair or Rey biting into his forearm. If he wasn’t already in the middle, Finn was generally the one who pulled Rey away because the headlock she had put Poe in was about to cause him to pass out.

Finn also had been the first to ask if Poe meant anything to her. His brown eyes down cast, he seemed terrified of her answer. Rey had laughed, rubbing her grease-soaked hand across her forehead to get the stray strand of hair out of her face. Of course he did, she said but the grin faded the more panicked Finn looked.

She was confused for days, until one day she heard a clatter of metal in one of the bay hangers and found Poe backed up against a cruiser, Finn kissing him fiercely. Of course, when confronted hours later by their friend, they both turned the color of Sokor, the red giant. They were still figuring things out, they claimed. That night, they each earned a strong punch to the shoulder for keeping something like this from her. So their relationship was a private affair, and Rey respected that, never saying anything to anyone, and this simply meant that every time she and Poe would end up rolling on the ground because someone had insulted the other’s skills in the cockpit, it was really just a friendly matter of defending one’s honor. Or when she fell asleep in Finn’s lap after a hard day of training, she felt safe with her friend. More than once, she had nearly slipped up and called them her brothers in passing conversation, and yet, it felt entirely natural.

She could have lived out the rest of her days nestled next to those two. If Finn was her rock, Poe was her staff, her guide forward to fight another day.

               “Now, children, what will the dignitaries think of their Champions are bickering?” Leia questioned, her eyes not leaving the holopad in front of her.

Poe leaned back, still playfully glaring at Rey. “Sorry, ma’am.”

His head still back, Finn discreetly poked Poe in the ribs.

               “So there will be a lot of representatives here at the banquet?” Rey asked, finally turning her attention back to the General. Beside his mother, Solo’s face was stone, his gaze trailing out the window. His hand was clasped into a fist on the seat next to him. The impenetrable Force encircling his mind crackled. Rey frowned at him, before looking back at Leia.

               “The first official Coalition meeting starts tomorrow, so this is Coruscant’s way of wrapping up the celebrations,” Brando replied. “It’s an excellent way to show a united support among all of the systems.”

Something that felt like derision rumbled from Ben Solo. Rey felt it across the cab. The young man remained motionless, but something in his dark eyes was angry, frustrated.

The grav-car slowed its rapid speed and circled the landing strip of the Galaxies Opera House. What Rey first assumed to be landing gear upon their first approach was in fact a screaming crowd. As the ship dropped closer and closer, Rey scanned the crowd for potential threats, a habit she had grown quite accustomed to over the years.

Again, she bounced into another search light seeking within the crowd. Frustration suddenly spiked, and she glared across the cab again. He didn’t even grace her with a returned look.

Then she felt it, something dark lurked in the crowd. Nothing to fear, but still, an angry disturbance.

The craft landed and the crowd erupted into victorious screams.

               “Here we go,” Poe murmured as he opened the door, the cheering quickly filling up the entire cab. Lights flashed in the crowd before them and Rey felt her heartbeat race again. Poe clamored out and began his usual routine of smiling and waving. Finn gave a half-grin to Rey over his shoulder and followed Poe onto the platform. Representative Brando turned to Leia and took her hand, which she graciously accepted. The cab was empty except for the two force-wielders.

               “You feel it right?” He asked her quietly, over the din of the noise. His hands rested over his bent knees, his eyes questioning. His eyes locked onto hers again.

               “What?”

               “There’s something out there,” Ben’s chin jerked to the awaiting crowd. “Not dangerous, but it’s significant. You can sense it.”

She nodded, her throat dry.

               “Protect my mother,” he glanced to the floor. His hand flexed on his knee. “I know your friends are out there, but— she’s important. To the success of the Coalition.”

Rey swallowed, squaring her shoulders against the imagined force pinning her to the back of the seat. “I know.”

Ben sighed, and she immediately recognized that he wished to stay in the cab as much as she did. His large frame looked out of place, cramped inside a Coalition craft.

               “We had better go,” she murmured.

He rolled chin, his teeth clenching.

“You’re right.”

He leaned forward, about to step out, when he paused. Ben looked back at her, and without any inflection or a hint of emotion, said: “I apologize for prying into your affairs, I had no right,” and strode out of the cab in one step.

Immediately his pale face was lit up a brilliant stream of lights. He adjusted his coat, his long lashes pulled down as if to block out the light.

Then he turned and extended a hand to her back in the cab. Her eyes traveled up his palm, his square wrists, long arm, to the face patiently waiting. Rey’s heart was hammering now. Utterly exposed, she stared up at the elegant man, patiently waiting to escort her to the platform. His dark eyebrow quirked up, as if to say, _if I have to do this, so do you_. Rey rubbed her hands on her dress to dry them, before taking his hand and allowing herself to be pulled forward. His palm was cool and his fingers touched under her wrists, barely ghosting her skin.

The procession moved forward towards the Opera House. Poe and Finn waved, smiling and shaking hands with the ecstatic crowd of Coalition supporters. Leia grinned warmly into the flashing lights, Brando nodding every now and again.

Rey tried to keep from frowning against the light. She grinned and waved her fingers. She sighed, and began to focus on the crowd again. Still she couldn’t find the source of the disturbance. It was moving, fast, slipping and sliding through the onlookers, but always ahead of them, towards the front of the procession.

Rey frowned as she sensed an image, the focus of the lurker: Leia Organa. Suddenly, from the center of the crowd, a projectile flew into the air.

Next to her, she heard Ben shout, “GET DOWN!” and she threw out her right hand to stop the projectile from splattering into Organa’s chest. The crowd screamed, ducking—

A rotten Jogan fruit hovered a foot from Organa. The General slowly rose up, her head turning to the back of the procession.

The fingers hanging by her left side suddenly prickled, as though an electric shocked surged through them. Rey looked to her left. Ben mirrored her stance— one arm raised, Force focused on the unknown projectile. Her fingers sparked again and he looked down at her, his face vulnerable out of fear. Without thinking, she dove forward with the Force and began to explore his mind, hers just as open.

               _She protected my mother._

_She’s become so powerful._

_Why are you looking at me like that?_

She heard her own thoughts echoed back to her, their connection through the Force thrumming like a live wire.

               _He didn’t hesitate._

_He’s terrified._

_Why are you looking at me like that?_

In the crowd, a voice screamed, “Elitists! You’ve got no love for the poor and defenseless!”

Rey slammed Ben out of her head as he did the same, the gate once again iron-clad. The crowd scattered as black shadows rushed forward, the disturbance now a low roar.

Out of the dusk that had descended, a hailstorm of rotten fruit smattered down onto the procession. But the two in the back simply raised their hands, the Force providing a shield over the Champions and the General.

               “Ma’am, we should get moving,” Brando instructed. Leia nodded, but her eyes were lifted upwards, towards the invisible shield. Rey missed the look of curiosity the General sent her as Brando led Leia up the Opera House steps.

Two guards shut the doors behind them, shutting out the noise of the angry mob behind them.

               “What the hell was that about?” Finn asked indignantly. “’Elitists’?”

               “Ma’am, are you alright?” Poe went to the General immediately, but she shook her head.

               “I’m fine,” she responded, but her eyes were strained. “Those sad people . . .”

               “The destitute of Coruscant live in the lower levels of the planet,” Ben responded to no one in particular. He still looked vaguely shaken. All eyes fell on him, as it seemed to be tradition. “A group of them rose up amidst the chaos of the Clone Wars and their hatred was aimed towards what they termed the _elitists_ — those of the upper levels, whether or not those on the upper levels had any real significant financial value.”

               “But why would they attack us?” Rey asked.

Ben opened his mouth, but Poe’s brazen voice cut across first. “Because when the Deathstar was being built, it was the poor who were recruited because they were desperate to eat. They were turned into cannon fodder for the Galactic Empire. There were in fact good people aboard that battle station. Same with Starkiller Base.”

               Ben’s dark eyes finally met with Poe’s steel glare. Neither man moved, the air charged, and Ben Solo swallowed.

               “Madame General!” The wide doors opened and in strode the flamboyant representative from Mandalore. He embraced Leia and Brando. “Welcome Representative Brando, and the Champions! The feast is nearly ready!”

He swooped behind the General and Brando, his cape dragging on the floor, completely oblivious to the tension. “Come, come and join the festivities! We couldn’t really start without you!”

Finn followed the General, his head down. Poe threw another razor-sharp scowl at Ben before dragging his feet towards the banquet. Ben watched his strained shoulders before dropping his own gaze to his feet. By his side, his hand flexed into a fist. Rey thought of the crackle at their fingertips and she hid her own hand in the folds of her dress.

Rey briefly shook her head and walked towards the golden banquet, leaving Ben in the dark.

* * *

The glass reflected hazel in the glowing light of the banquet hall. Rey leaned back in her high chair, twisting the goblet back and forth with the Force. The night was late and they had been served more food than Rey had ever seen— much less even attempted to have eaten. After the second glass of emerald wine, everything felt far away, as though operating on a separate plane of existence, and yet within this one.

The Representative from Talus had turned away from her again, engaged in a loud conversation about the proper manner to win a holocube game with the Tefaun next to him. Finn had left his seat to join Poe on the hall floor, chatting with an elderly group of men who, despite being dressed in various officer uniforms, all looked remarkably similar. Clones, Rey wondered.

Organa had given a wonderful speech, about unity, and hope and looking forward. She also announced her retirement from the position as General. She was eager to further strengthen the remaining Alderaan outposts, and bring leadership to her people. No one seemed particularly surprised, but the looks of painful sorrow from the commanders, royalty, and representatives in the room were not lost either.

She made no mention of the secret task force set out to acquire artifacts of dark Sith magic, either.

Rey looked up into the crowd again, her eyes dancing from one blue representative, to the furry one with scuttling pincers near the far end of the hall. She, and the rest of the Champions, sat at the top of the hall, on a long table with the Coalition colors spread over the cloth.

The plush seats on either side of her were empty. The hum of chatter was everywhere, except near her, with her.

Rey sat up straighter: the seat to the right of Organa was also empty. The glass stilled as she cast out a net into the crowd to find that solid barrier in the Force.

It rumbled near the Opera House doors. The Force around Ben was warm, ebbing and flowing. Rey found him, a sharp drop of dark brown among a sea of gold and green. He was happy.

Rey concentrated, cutting back through the crowd, through the bright laughter, casual drinks, and sweet finishing desserts. She could clearly see him in her mind’s eye. Still she could not see inside that fortress of his mind, but she hovered around, watching. She did not waver close enough for him to Sense her, and because of that, the images she found were blurry, but she could understand them just the same.

He was seated on the floor with three elderly human women. Their rags bore no military marking, or symbolic alliance of any kind. When one laughed, her face was shown in sharp relief and Rey gasped: the woman’s face was severely marred, most likely by fire or blaster. She couldn’t fully open her left eye, and her mouth was a scar more than lips. Rey shifted her focus from Ben and gazed at the women around him. They all shared similar facial deformities, but if anything their joy was lighter because of it. The woman to Ben’s right whispered something playful, pointed with a stubbed finger at Ben’s emerald sleeve, and the rest broke into hoots of laughter. Rey turned, and caught the young man’s face break into a smile.

It was an unguarded smile, one full of teeth and smooth lips. He enjoyed the teasing, his chuckle a thunderous boom in his chest. He ran a hand through his dark hair, continuing to grin at the ground. His bashful air only encouraged the women more and they rolled back, howling. He muttered something like, “you wish.”

Rey swallowed, again feeling as though she was intruding. She retreated, settling back in her seat once again.

She watched his dark head jumble, as though he had made the joke this time. The women tutted, some shaking their head, and others giggling. Rey wished she had never sought him out. But she couldn’t stop staring at his thick hair.

Suddenly, his back froze, and Ben’s profile opened as he caught the sight of someone across the banquet hall. Rey followed his gaze and watched Poe stand up, saying something about getting some air. Finn was entranced by the wild gestures of one of the old clones, no doubt sharing a war story. Poe patted Finn’s shoulder before heading towards one of the hall doors.

Ben stirred and stood up, excusing himself from the women, before following the pilot through the hall.

At that moment, she sensed it.

Rey stood up immediately, her chair grinding against the floor.

Something was coming, something bad. She felt the Force shift around them. What did it have to do with them? By the stern focus on Ben’s face, he was unaware, as he dove through the crowd.

She had to warn them.

Rey left the table without anyone trying to stop her. Her heels clicked as she bounced down the platform stairs, her dress held in her hand out of her way. She wove past representatives and cloaks and silk slippers. Ben’s green jacket trailed around the corner as she managed to narrowly avoid a Gungan jumping to his feet in a bout of laughter.

Her heart was pounding as Rey ran into a darkened corridor. Men’s voices echoed in the quiet, the din of the banquet dulled in the darkness. Above the Opera House, in the spacious sky of Coruscant, something flickered, something terrible. Without much consideration, she ran towards the only other Force-wielder in the building.

               “Dameron—,”

               “No, I don’t care. You destroyed your mother when you left. You destroyed your family. I don’t care who you’ve manipulated into believing this is a new you— I ain’t buying it!”

               “We were children, together. You were my—,”

               “NO,” Poe’s voice viciously replied,” I was never your friend, and if that’s your definition of a friend, then you’re more pathetic than I ever thought you could be. We were not friends, and we never will be.”

In the sky, two ships dropped out of hyperspace and opened fire on the Opera House. She found the two men around the corner of the corridor.

               “Ben!” she screamed. His dark eyes locked with hers and he moved forward. 

The corridor exploded in a storm of blaster and smoke. Rey was launched backwards, the ceiling collapsing into fiery debris. In the distance, someone screamed and fire erupted from the rubble.

Organa.

Coughing, the smoke clouding her eyes, Rey rolled onto her knees, her ears ringing. Nothing broken. Something bleeding.

Organa.

She tripped onto her feet, the heel to her shoe cracking, and she tossed her elegant shoes to the side. The doorway to the banquet hall had crumbled, crippled under the weight of the fallen ceiling. Rey threw up a hand, and the rubble blasted away.

The banquet hall was burning. Bodies littered the black floor, tables upturned, and flames crackling. Someone was wailing, and soot-drenched guards were trying to rouse unconscious forms. Above them, the enemy ship swooped low again.

Rey clamored over rubble towards the banquet table. She shoved aside another lump of hot black steel, and found the General—

Alive. But Brando was not so lucky. She knelt next to him, hand over his burned face.

               “Ma’am, we have to get you out of here!” Rey snapped, grabbed the elder woman by the shoulders, pulling her up.

At the entrance to the hall, several blasters went off and guards groaned. Rey pushed herself and Leia down behind what was left of the banquet table.

No less than fifteen Trandoshan bounty hunters climbed the stairs, their golden eyes glittering in the smoke. The leader, a green-scaled creature flexed its muscles, adjusting the large Proton rifle in its three-fingered claws.

               “Good evening, Coalition members, we’re s-s-sorry for the interruption.” A large tongue darted out from between two-inch long fangs. “We’re your entertainment for the evening. Where’s-s-s-s the famous-s-s General Leia Organa?”

Rey felt the General shift under her hand, trying to rise out from behind the overturned table, but Rey shook her head.

               “I can get you out of here, but you have to trust me,” she whispered.

               “Rey, why are they here? What are they looking for?” Leia hissed back.

Rey shook her head, her gaze offset as she ran through the endless list of possibilities. Military plans, soldier outposts, trade routes, rations drop sites—

The General grabbed Rey’s arm as the two women came to the same realization.

               “Rey,” she murmured breathlessly, “they want our information on the Sith artifacts. In the wrong hands, the dark side could return.”

               “A free-for-all for hunters like the Trandoshan.” Rey unbuckled the strap on the back of her left calf. Her saber fell into her hands. “I can clear the way, but once we get onto the platform, we have to get you out of here.”

               “ _You_ have to get back to _The Elite_. They’re in my safe, in my room.”

Rey reached across Brando’s dead body, and pulled the blaster from his holster. She handed it to the General with a small grin.

               “Here, it’s the best I can do.”

Leia Organa smirked. “It’s all I need.”

Rey huffed, steeling herself for the coming fight, and switched on her double-sided saber.

Out of the smoke, Rey stood, engulfed in a blue light. The Force thrummed within her and she stretched, her power unfurling.

               “Oh, and who is this?” The Trandoshan chuckled, lowering his rifle. However, the other four around him raised their sights. “I didn’t suppose they made Jedi as tas-s-sty-looking as you.”

               “Let the survivors go. Or else I will have to fight you.”

               “You’ve got me all ruffled in my trousers now, little thing,” the Trandoshan turned off the safety. “Come give us a—,”

Across the room, a blaster shot fired and knocked the rifle from its owner’s claws. The creature shrieked in pain.

Ben did not hesitate and fired into the group of hunters, scattering them behind the debris for cover. Behind him, Poe was badly bleeding from his cheek and he held his arm at an odd angle, but he was undoubtedly alive. The hunters returned fire and Ben called a broken table to them to hide behind. Before his ash-covered face was covered behind the rubble, Ben’s look was fierce— every angle of his eyes, lips, jaw was drawn tight. The guards outside were returning the shots, consuming the attention of the hunting party at the back.

Behind her, Leia opened fire into the hunter patrol. The Trandoshan screamed, hissing and fired back into the smoke. Rey ducked and grabbed Leia by the wrist, dragging her down and against the far wall. Rey deflected several blasts that came their way, and did not miss the look of relief on Organa when they saw Poe and Ben move to deeper cover.

               “You stay here, I’ll clear a path out,” Rey muttered. Leia nodded, her blaster held tight.

The young Jedi focused, sensing a Trandoshan behind the wall of debris in front of them, and shoved the blackened husk forward. The creature screamed, burning from the ashes, and Rey leapt forward.

Gliding on the Force, she swung left than right, taking two out in the same motion. Their comrades turned and opened fire, but the double-bladed saber knocked the blasts aside with grace. A threat moved on the horizon and hurled him into the ground with a single blow from the Force.

               “General, now!” Rey roared over her shoulder. More hunters found their attention, and began blasting at the two women, but hand-over-fist, Rey countered the fire with her saber, covering Leia as she moved along. Leia fired into the collapsed door and immediately, the smoke poured out of the opening into the night air. Rey knocked back a hunter into several of the other Trandoshans as they slipped outside. The remaining guards were locked in a fierce fight with the rest of the Trandoshan clan, but above the thunder of battle, Rey spotted an intact cruiser and a speed bike. Leia saw it too.

               “I don’t know how to get you there, Ma’am, we’d need a lot of cover and—,”

An old Resistance transport descended out of the sky and opened fire onto the clan of creatures. The creatures scattered, at least enough for the ship to land. A Resistance Commander rushed down to the platform.

Before the commander could say anything, Leia turned to Rey, grabbing her wrists. “You have to get to the information first. Trandoshans don’t care about anything but the hunt. They’ve been hired to do this by someone and that someone isn’t any good. I’ll send troops to _The Elite_ as soon as I can.”

Rey nodded, pulling away, but Leia grasped tighter. Her brown eyes were etched in worry. “Be careful.”

The saber active again, Rey sliced through the side of the Republic-style dress, her legs now free to their full range of motion. “Always am.”

* * *

 

Cold wind snapped at her bare heels as she sped through the skylane towards the burning _Elite_ , her brown hair coming loose in the stream. Medical transport passed her in the opposite direction, racing towards the scene at the Opera House, and more still zoomed ahead, breaking every speeding law in the city. She had seen the smoke billowing into the night sky a mile away and her heart tightened as she thought of the people inside the crumbling hotel—

Of the people she had left back at the Opera House. She hadn’t seen Finn anywhere in the wreckage. And Poe looked terrible, his arm—

She had left Solo to defend them all. She had left Ben.

Despite the cold burn on her knuckles, she cranked the handle on the speeder, urging it faster. She was sure she could no longer feel her toes, but still she rattled forward.

Rey ignored the officer sirens and landed on one of the platforms still intact. Officers were urging people out of the building, medical and management droids tending to victims and attempting to put out the fire. Circling the hotel, another band of Trandoshan hunters shrieked and hissed, snapping their jaws and firing into crowds.

Rey ignited her saber and, tossing back a hunter rushing after a woman onto his back and off the platform, she stormed into the burning building.

Around her the fire raged, hot licks of flame scorching the metal skeleton of the building, consuming carpets and tapestries and furniture. Immediately, the young Jedi broke into a fierce sweat, pools racing down her neck and forehead. The lobby was deserted, the fire too hot for anyone to use it as an exit, and yet on the edges of the Force, she sensed movement. Gathering her strength beneath her feet, she launched herself twenty feet into the air and tumbled onto a stable hallway on the third floor. A wall to her left collapsed and she blocked the falling debris with a swipe of her hand. In the room beyond, a Trandoshan hissed and opened fire. She sidestepped the blast and returned it back to its origin. The hunter snarled as it fell.

The fire was reaching unbearable temperatures and she felt sweat run down her legs. Leia’s temporary quarters were on the fourth floor. Rey collected her strength again, and bounded up through a crackling hole in the ceiling.

It was Leia’s room, Coalition flags draped in black tatters along the wall. The building gave an unsettling shudder and outside she heard more screaming, more gunfire, and the sound of approaching ships. Rey danced along the edge of the bedroom, a large hole down to the first floor melting open as the flames reached higher and higher. Sweating profusely, feet cracking from burn blisters, Rey sighed, trying to ignore the pain, the yelling, the way Master Luke once had instructed her. She opened a hand towards the tapestry above the bed and yanked it away with a tug of the Force. _The Elite_ safe was designed to withstand fires like these, but perhaps not the powerful grip of a Jedi. She turned her attention to the sleek metal door— and heard a roar in the distance.

_Thud. Thud_.

Across from her, the remaining intact wall shuddered as two giant claws broke through. The wall began to crack as the claws dug deeper in and with a violent jerk, an entire section was removed by a giant Trandoshan. It was at least three times her size— her head was the size of one of its bulging biceps. It gnashed its teeth, screeching into the night.

               “Jedi,” it snarled, “you won’t get in the way of what I’ve come for.”

Rey concentrated, her hand forming a fist, and the metal door blew back into another room of the hotel. “Let’s make a wager. Whoever gets there first, gets to—,”

She noticed something swinging by its two-foot wide hips. Crudely so, Obi Wan’s journal had been wrapped up in a layering of cloth. The creature had stolen it, undoubtedly hoping to make a profit off it.

               “Is this-s-s-s yours, little Jedi?” It snickered. “Come and take it.”

The lightsaber ignited a blaze of fire.

* * *

 

               “Okay, lizard-brains, suck laser!” Finn, with a swollen eye and a broken rib, blasted down the final hunting raider ship.

From the cockpit of a cruiser, Poe whooped in victory. “Get ‘em!”

She was close, somewhere nearby, but where?

Her movement in the Force suddenly clashed with Ben’s net and he pointed over Poe’s shoulder to a landing platform on one of the higher levels of _the Elite_. “There. She’s in one of those rooms.”

The moment Poe touched down, Ben was already down the landing strip, blaster raised at what remained of the terminal doors. Her friends came tumbling down after him.

He had yanked off his firm necktie before leaving the opera house, leaving his collar bone exposed. Hot wind from the burning building burrowed against his throat and down into his starched shirt, deepening his sense of panic. His hair, blowing in the ash, plastered itself against his bruised jaw.

               “I don’t see her,” Poe yelled above the crackle of the flames and the siren of the Coalition ships on the decks below.

               “She’s here. I can feel her.”

With a crack like lightening, something very large crashed backwards through the terminal door. A trandoshan, two feet taller than Ben and three times as thick, flew towards them, looking as though it was well on its way to losing a battle with a trash compactor.

From the flames and wreckage, a figure emerged. Her hair snapping in the molten ashy wind, dress torn up the side to her hip, her bare legs bleeding and burned, the fire in her eyes crackling brighter that the burning saber in her hand, Rey approached. She moved like she commanded reality to move around _her_. Barefoot and bleeding from the back of her ear, down her throat, the Living Force within the young Jedi roared.

Ten feet in front of her, the trandoshan was shuffling to its feet. It was bleeding profusely, but as most ignorant species went, it seemed unaware that it had lost the fight. Pathetically it raised its claws as if to continue the blows, but Rey shot out a hand, raising the creature off its massive feet.

Beneath his sheer awe, Ben’s heart quickened. _No, don’t do that, that’s darkness—_

The creature struggled but Rey had yet to clamp down on its throat.

               “The disk, if you please,” she said curtly.

It snarled and thrashed— and Rey tightened. The creature gasped and her eyes glittered, her lips pulled back into a snarl. She was Force-choking the hunter.

Ben opened his mouth, but Finn’s voice was heard. “Rey! Stop!”

The Jedi blinked, shocked for a moment, before slamming the trandoshan into the platform. The tab fell out of its meaty claw, loose in exhaustion.

Her hair and dress billowed in the wind.

               “You’ll never win, Jedi,” the creature hissed, “the Dark side will always find a way.”

               “If you’re what the Dark side has to offer, then I remain unafraid,” Rey responded. Ben swallowed. She was bleeding worse than he originally saw. “My book. Now.”

Defeated, the hunter unbound some package at its hip and tossed it to her. Triumphant, Rey grinned. “Smart. You’ll do fine in maximum security prison.”

She raised her eyes and Ben found himself staring directly into hers. Then they were gone, greeting her friends. She raced towards Finn, throwing her arms around him, thanking the Stars that he was safe. And of course, Poe welcomed her with a one armed hug, the other wrapped up in a sling.

Then she found Ben again— and froze.

               “Thank you,” she said and Ben knew it was meant for everyone, despite being absolutely controlled by those hazel eyes.

               “Rey, look out!”

The trandoshan had clamored to its feet and lunged at the girl. She ducked—

And Ben, with a sweep of his hand, launched it from the platform.

* * *

 

As Poe flew them back to what was left of the Opera House to regroup, Finn sat next to her, rubbing bacta on her open burns. She felt foolish, being fussed over. She felt even more so that Ben Solo watched the whole event transpire. Despite having an entire ceiling falling on him, the greatest injury he seemed to have sustained was a large bruise blooming green and purple up the side of his sharp jaw.

Her feet, now red and black, were cold again, the transport ship’s metal rather unforgiving. She focused determinedly on a spot on the ground, letting Finn clean the blood from her neck.

               “You know it doesn’t mean anything that you choked that guy, right?” Finn muttered.

The shuttle jolted. Ben listened with his eyes diverted. Finn seemed determined to ignore him.

               “You just lost control for a minute, and it doesn’t mean anything. Light or dark, okay?”

Rey’s stomach knotted further. She hadn’t lost control. If anything, she had been in exact and precise control, and she had done it anyway. The only other time she had done something so cruel was—

               “That’s not true,” Solo muttered.

Finn’s scowl darkened. “I don’t remember asking for—,”

               “That’s not true, _Rey_ , and you know it.”

The shuttle bounced and the lights flickered.

Again, she couldn’t remember another time he had spoken her name so clearly. So firm. Reverent. Their gaze held yet again.

               “Believing the Dark side has no influence on you only makes you vulnerable.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> The cover photo for this fic. Designed by me: http://puu.sh/pTE0f/9635aa75ac.jpg


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